


Tempo of Heartbreak

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: 2nd POV, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: Ignorance and arrogance are the food of pain.





	Tempo of Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by Panaceaa!!! Thank you so much for your 3am last minute assistance!

There you go again, you pathetic bastard. Dancing in a circus of your own creation, pretending that any of your decisions matter or that anyone even cares about your life and what you do with it. 

It’s sad, knowing that you will be the last to know. That you will be unable shake the agony of your own ignorance. It’s pathetic, pitiful, and sad.

You will continue to repeat mistakes endlessly in a spiral towards destruction. But don’t worry, you’ll get your wish if you continue down your current path.

“Look, Kenny, I just don’t think we should be friends anymore. You’re a--” You pause, not even using your own words, like a coward, “—bad influence.”

Kenny McCormick, your childhood friend and close confident is smiling but you’re too much of an ignorant motherfucker to see how strained it is. Blind to the fact that his eyes are draining of the very vibrancy that  _ you _ find attractive, you hypocritical moron.

“It’s nothing personal, I just have a lot of things going on and I don’t think that I’m really good for you either.” You’re deflecting now, what a bastard you are, trying to make it seem like you’re somehow the better human being in this.

What a bastard.

Kenny’s voice is small and non-confrontational, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to find a problem with it. “If that’s how you really feel, dude.”

“It is.” You snip back with a haughty air that should have been left behind in your stupid high-end lifestyle. You take after your shit father more than even you realize.

You won’t ever realize it either. You’re too busy on your downward spiral, taking others down with you.

“Cool,” Kenny starts, “Cool, coolcoolcool.” His words move closer together in a way that could have been comedic if his heart wasn’t sitting there shattered on the fucking ground.

But you’ll never see that, you self-centered bastard. You turn around in a huff and... that’s how you end your friendship with the McCormick boy. An end you caused of your own volition and out of purely selfish motivations.

You want to pretend that he’s the problem. That you’re doing this for both of your sakes. That this is the  _ correct _ decision. Even you aren’t quite  _ that _ deluded though.

You know you’re a bastard. You just don’t realize how far you’ll take it. That you will leave a line of hurt behind you while you waltz along life without an ounce of care for the people around you.

You’re disgusting.

It’s probably fortunate for you that he doesn’t think you’re disgusting. He has too wide a capacity for pity. He probably sees you for what you are and pities you for being such a pathetic fool. 

It’s fortunate because he won’t seek recompense for the injury.

Still, he won’t open his heart. Not for you. Not ever again.

Enjoy your ivy-league lifestyle and your picture-perfect life as your soul rots inside.

It’s the future you chose after all.

\--

You’re surprised.

One moment your life is in mortal peril with a gun held to your skull and the next you’re held in the very same powerful arms that had delivered a decisive roundhouse to the ruffian.

It’s amazing. It takes your breath away.

You know you’re not particularly light. It’s shocking how this stranger just swept you up like you didn’t weigh a thing.

“Are you alright?”

The voice is gruff and stiff, but you can still hear the trill of concern. Your heart patters at the thought.

This masked stranger with their impressive strength and stunning heroism is concerned for  _ you _ of all people. It’s exhilarating.

“F-fine.” You stutter through the response.

You don’t know. You don’t know you’ve broken this boys heart. You don’t know you’ve been cruel to him.

You just know he’s  _ dreamy _ and you can’t even bother to deny your own racing pulse. White trash wasn’t good enough for you but fleece leggings with underwear worn improperly apparently rocks your world.

What a weird bastard you are.

“I’ll take care of the rest. Hurry home.” He puts you down so gently you want to cling to him dramatically. You want to be every damsel in distress stereotype and it’s only the small sliver of common sense leftover in your adrenaline riddled mind that releases the thought and nods obediently.

In just a moment this masked man has you. Could have whatever he wished; your heart, your life, all willingly given.

It’s only when you reach your home that you realize how ridiculous and crazy that is. You don’t know him. You don’t know if he’s a bad person ( _ he can't be _ , your heart sings) and you don’t even believe in pitiful things like love at first sight.

And yet here you are. Trapped. A puppy love. A simple love. A stupid love. All from one well aimed kick and elegant rescue.

You know about the theory of the suspension bridge effect, but you’d never thought yourself the type to be so susceptible to it.

How wrong you were.

You’ve already created a fan blog for the mystery hero before the night is done, collecting as many stories of his acts of heroism as you can get your hands on.

You creepy stalker. You unbelievable weirdo. You selfish bastard.

You’ll continue down this path for some time to come. Hunting a story of a man you don’t know a thing about and falling deeper into the obsessive and pervasive emotion known as love.

It’s pathetic.

\--

There he is again. You can see him having fun with his friends. With your friends. He’s impossible to shake off in that way.

You live in a small town. You’ve known him your whole life. He should be one your closest friends.

Instead due to your own stupidity you feel as if he’s taking your friends from you; still trapped in your selfish spiral.

He would never do that. Never want that. You should know this. You should know that if you asked he’d probably slink off to eat alone or not eat at all. You don’t notice this. You’ve never looked at him,  _ really _ looked at him. You see a dirty child with no future and it frustrates you.

You don’t know what he does. He’d tell you, if you asked. He doesn’t have any real secrets, just a whole lot of things no one would ever bother to ask him.

You don’t even recognize the little girl next to him. The one who finally pulls him away from your friends. You would wonder who she is, but you don’t care. You’re just happy that now you can enter the scene without having to talk to him.

He’s a bother. He’s something in your way.

What a cruel bastard you are. You should be ashamed.

You’re not ashamed, instead you rush up to regale your exasperated friends about all the wonderful things your hero has done lately. They don’t want to know. They don’t care. They think you’re too obsessed and far too invested.

Though, that’s never stopped you before. In some ways, opposition drives you. You find what you believe in, whether it’s correct or wildly off course, and then you go all the way. You would be a terrible gambler: immediately betting your entire pot on red because you  _ believe _ it's the right move.

You should stop fucking around and look yourself in the mirror. See what an idiot you’re always making of yourself. Your friends see it.

He didn’t though. Rose colored glasses allowed him to view your stupidity as something admirable. He likes passion and he likes the circles you run yourself through because he likes  _ you _ , you stupid bastard.

But then again, he won't be allowing you close to his heart anymore. Have fun with that, asshole.

\--

“Wait! Don't go…” Your voice pitters off to the staccato beat of your heart, thumping and pumping your feelings through your veins.

To your surprise he does pause, he never did before. He doesn’t turn around though; just stands stock-still in the alley, just out of your reach.

He’ll always be out of your reach, you foolish bastard.

You don't know what to say, you hadn’t expected him to be so accommodating. You swallow back all your fears, running full-heartedly into stupidity is your only true skill after all. “Who are you?”

“Mysterion.” His voice sends chills down your spine. You hadn’t realized how much you’d wanted to hear it again.

“I know that but… who is Mysterion?”

“Why do you care?”

Somehow you feel like he went off script. Like he was supposed to say something else and it would all add into a grand adventure.

You’re caught by surprise by his question too. You know why you care, denial aside you’re not  _ blind _ . You know how you feel. You know why you want to know.

You want him. You’ve never wanted anyone or anything more than this mysterious figure. It doesn’t matter that you don't know who or what he is without the mask. You know how he chooses to conduct himself with the mask, and that’s enough.

He’s kind and strong and fragile in one. He’s a real voice for the small and oppressed, not like you. Not like when you fight so hard for a cause that you reach the point of extremism and end up hurting the very souls you once claimed to be helping.

He’s the real deal. He’s what you admire. He’s what you want to be. He’s someone you want in your life.

How do you answer him? How can you? You’re aware that your feelings are insane.

But they’re  _ yours _ . And that spiral of insanity also known as your mind won't allow you to step down. You will go down in flames, or never at all.

“Because I love you.”

He stands still as a statue, and you want to reach out and touch the small of his back. You want to be there to support him when things are tough. Patch him up after a rough night. You want him.

But the air has changed. He remains still and there’s not a single soft air particle to support the lofty statement.

Finally, he turns and his eyes are unreadable. You almost take a step back from the intensity of his posture, is this how a villain feels before they are crushed under his might? You can't know for sure, but in this moment, you can see the symbol he truly is.

You stand strong and you stand still. You are strong. You meet that gaze.

He closes the distance effortlessly to stare straight into your eyes, searching and cold. His eyes are ice-blue. You wonder what they would look like in the warm tones of sky in the daytime. Maybe a baby blue full of laughter.

You can practically feel his breath when he speaks.

“Thank you for your support.” His voice is so stiff, so pained beneath the tones of professionalism, “I understand and appreciate all you’ve done as a citizen to support my efforts. It is also kind of you to hold me in such high regard. Have a safe trip home.”

And he leaves you with your world crumbling and pain gripping your very core.

He’s not petty. He can't be even when he tries. He may have wanted to turn around and scream. He may have wanted to rip off his mask and just snipe  _ really?! _ He may have wanted to explain to you what  _ infatuation _ is- as if you were a mentally impaired child in need of perhaps a little more assistance than the other kids.

He may have wanted to do a lot of things... but he knows what it feels like to have one's heart shatter like so many worthless and unwanted pieces of jagged pain. Lined on the floor like glass to cut your feet with every new step. The pain of a world crashing down is too fresh to him. Too painful.

He would never wish that pain on you. Not you. Even in his petty daydreams where he tries so hard to hate you he just  _ can't _ . He hates himself for his own inability to do so.

He’s envious of your ability to be so heated and decisive. To just decide someone is bad and call it a day. He looks at things from too many angles. From too emotional a standpoint.

He loves you. You don’t know this, but he loves you and he will never let you hurt him like that again. His heart has closed off.

And you’re too busy pitying yourself like the giant baby you are to understand any of this. To  _ see _ why you could see the sparkles of sunshine in his eyes when you should have only noticed cool blue of the night.

You pathetic  _ idiot _ .

\--

He has stopped talking to your friends. He spends more time with that small girl that you don’t even care about. That doesn’t really matter to you. You’re too busy poking at your food in despair.

You’d been rejected in such a cruel and kind way. It was mortifying. He’d just reminded you of the distance between you. Of the difference of situations. Established clearly and cleanly that he doesn’t think badly of you, but that he has no interest or intentions for you.

“You okay, dude?” Stan is a good friend. Stan notices when you’re upset and tries to help you with sincerity. You don’t want to tell him though; it's too embarrassing, too mortifying. You settle for glaring at your orange ex-friend. That was an easier thing to focus on.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is short and clipped. Stan knows you well enough to keep his distance when you get like this. 

“You sure? You haven’t touched your food, man.” David doesn’t know better. Or he chooses not to. He’s also a good friend.

You should appreciate your friends more, you selfish idiot.

“I said I’m fine.” You don’t hide the aggression in your tone and you're rewarded with what concern they had quickly fading into agitation.

No one has patience for an asshole. You’re an asshole.

Well, one of your friends had patience for an asshole, but you chased him off.

You chased him off because you thought him too crude. Because you didn’t like his attitude. Because you didn’t like that he’d listen to you patiently and offer you honest rebuttals.

You didn’t like that he’s below you. That he doesn’t try in some areas. 

You think he’s trying to destroy his own life by failing classes and missing school. You think he’s turning into a carbon copy of his unsavory lineage.

You can't see things like him working to support his younger sister. You only vaguely know of her existence. He doesn’t talk about his weaknesses much.

He’d tell you, if you asked. If you bothered to ask what he does with his time and what matters to him. If you took the time to ask him what his goals are for the future and how he plans to achieve them. He’d show you that you are  _ wrong _ and  _ arrogant _ and  _ stupid _ . But you don’t even bother the courtesy of asking him. You’ve already decided what he is.

It’s just tragic that he could admire that trait in you, all things considered.

You’re stupid.

\--

It’s awkward being with the person that rejected you. Neither of you have a choice. It’s cuddle tight in the corner of the warehouse in complete silence or let the armed gunman find you.

You were stupid. You shouldn’t be here. This is a place for heroes and monsters, not amateur-hour punks like you.

But you didn’t come here with this as the intention. You just wanted to see if you were right; if your exhaustive research had succeeded in finding the base of the drug ring. You weren’t going to get involved. You didn’t know anything was happening today. It was just your usual arrogance placing you in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The heart of your hero is beating with such strength that you can feel it, your back flush against it.

You know logically that it’s probably the intensity of the situation. The fact that your being there has brought down the chances of survival for the both of you.

You know this, and yet you can't help but notice that the tempo matches your own. The thud of a heart in love. You’re not scared. Not with him here. You have such a foolish and blind faith in him that someone should probably check if your head is screwed on right.

Your heart beats because of him.

Your treacherous and foolish mind whispers taunting temptations, that the heart of fear and the heart of affection just  _ had _ to sound different. That his doesn’t feel like fear to you. That the hot breath on the back of your neck feels so intense because he’s as far in love as you are.

For all your faults, you pathetic idiot, you have exceptional intuition. Against all odds you are correct.

That doesn't mean that he will ever accept you. Hurting him, truly  _ hurting _ him is a feat that not many have managed, but once you are on that list he will not open his heart for you. Will not open his heart even if it speeds faster than light with love.

When he gets you out of there and to safety, you apologize.

“Just don’t put yourself in such a dangerous situation again.” His reprimand sounds jagged to you. It cuts you because you wanted him to hold onto you.

Again, it was like he was going off script. He should be holding you for dear life, all his thoughts on you as he begged you to be safe. As he proclaimed his undying emotions.

His voice should be ragged with emotion, not stilted with professionalism.

Did he lose the script? Doesn't he know how this scene is supposed to play out?

You’re just bright enough to know that your life isn’t actually a movie, and no one is actually following a script.  That your delusions of his love are just that.

Lucky for you, you didn’t make a fool of yourself twice by clinging to that notion.

\--

Now this is wrong.

You know it's wrong.

Because his arms are around you and he’s protecting you with his iron grip as if you’re the most precious thing on this earth and that he’s terrified of losing you.

It’s the exact grip you’d anticipated but never received from your superhero crush.

The tempo of his heart matches your own and you look, really  _ look _ into bluebell eyes full of the sky and you  _ know _ .

That’s the exact moment that you realize what a cruel, moronic, and pathetic  _ idiot _ you are.

Kenny McCormick just begs you to be alright. Because he cares. Because he loves you. Because he wouldn't hurt you the way you’d hurt him. Because he would protect you with his life... but your consciousness slips away.

You dream about what a fucking fool you are.

 

**Author's Note:**

> >c>;; wrote to get used to a new keyboard, I think it got out of hand lol


End file.
